


The Circle of a Year

by Tish



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from a year of young Stephen and Paul. Rated F for Fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Circle of a Year

The gravel crunched underfoot as Paul trekked over to the dance studios. With a smile, he sidestepped a puddle and sat on a bench, book in hand. The weak sunshine flooded through the skylights of the large hall, windows taking up one whole wall.

Soon, the dancers filed in and started the lesson.

He gazed appreciatively at the forms and moves of the young dancers, their bodies writhing and contorting to the music. He was turned on as fuck.

 

All too soon, the class was over and Paul returned to his reading, the students wandering out in small groups, happily chatting away. A clattering door drew his attention back, looking up, Paul saw the thin, dark-clad young man with his wild Irish mane and beard.

Stephen was seemingly caught in a death-lock with the recalcitrant doors and finally freed himself after giving one a good, hard shove. He almost tripped as he made good his escape and the other door tried to slap his ass as a parting gesture.

Paul couldn't help himself as he fell of the bench laughing and straight into the deeper than expected puddle.  
Stephen's derisive laughter echoed back as he walked away.

*****

The rain pattering against the glass woke Stephen from that dream about the sand monster on the beach who just wanted to hug everyone. Yawning and shifting, he snuggled closer to Paul.

"MmmPaul, you awake?" he whispered.

"I am now," came a mumbled reply.

"Oh."

"Hmm?"

"Nothing."

Stephen got a mouthful of hair as Paul wriggled around to face him. "Stephen."

Stephen yawned again. "What?"

"You fucker. I got an early class." Paul prodded a finger at Stephen's chest before draping an arm over his waist.

"Mmm, sorry. What time?" Stephen closed his eyes again.

"11.30," Paul sighed.

A snort of laughter shook the bed. "11:30. In the morning?" Stephen asked incredulously.

"That's early!" Paul protested, stifling his own laughter. "My body clock is set on Uzbekistan or something."

"Is that even a place?" Stephen muttered.

"Yeah, it's in South America." Paul nodded, a futile gesture in the darkness.

"Near Altanta?" asked Stephen.

"Thereabouts," came the sleepy reply.

Stephen lay there for a moment. "I'd love to go there. Sounds pretty. Paul?"

Paul shuffled about a bit before making a sound that could have passed for a _what?_

Stephen waited a little longer. "Paul? You gone back to sleep?"

"Fuck off."

*****

Stephen watched the fish wriggle and dance, blinking as he realised it was just a pattern on the towel and wasn't actually moving. Paul patted it smooth one last time and plonked himself down on the bean bag. He gave a groan.

"Shit, forgot to put the record on." He sat up again with a gurgle and tried to focus on the needle. Stephen's giggling wasn't helping and he swore as the needle dragged over the album, scratching it. He lay down on the towel next to Stephen, their bodies close despite the heat.

Stephen's head bobbed up and down as the record span. "It's warped. Someone left it in a car."

Paul stared at it, "Wait, so that's not how she's supposed to sound like?"

A giggle tore from Stephen's lips and he rolled over, knocking over the bong.

Paul dived to save it, spilling some bong water. Carefully he set it a safe distance aside. Perched on Stephen's chest, he smiled down at Stephen's face and the fishes, "I like the view at this beach. Nice sea life."

"Mmm, could be sharks about. Might drag you down." Stephen gazed back.

" _Going down_ wouldn't be so bad, I guess." Paul leaned in for a kiss and pushed up Stephen's t-shirt. "Besides, some cultures eat shark."

"You'd need good bait to catch shark." Stephen nodded, suddenly gasping as Paul slipped a hand into his shorts and grabbed his cock.

"Yeah, that's a big, fat worm." Paul grinned as he pummelled Stephen. "This shark's gonna be cat food by the time I've finished wrestling it into submission."

"Oh fuck, between you babbling on and the weed, I'm fucking starving, Paul. Hurry up!" Stephen pleaded.

Paul grinned as he whacked away, "You feeling that? You close?"

"Oh fuck YES!" Stephen panted.

A ping from the oven made Paul stop abruptly, with a gleeful shout, "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!"

As Paul ran off to the kitchen, Stephen whined, "No! Please! Fuck..."

Paul soon returned, pizza and beers in tow. With a devious grin, he held out a slice to Stephen's lips and planted a row of kisses down Stephen's chest and stomach. As Stephen took the slice and contentedly munched away, Paul reached his destination and gave Stephen the happy ending he'd waited for.

*****

"You gonna come to my room, or shall I wait in your bed?" Stephen asked as he twirled a pen round.

Paul snapped the fabric back into place and admired himself in front of the mirror. "My bed's got warmer blankets."

"It's as cold as balls out there. Hey, you look good!" Stephen sat up and reached out to touch the brocade on the vest. "Is that all you're wearing?"

"Even the waiters have to be eye candy." Paul grinned back, adding, "It'll be plenty hot in there."

"You look plenty hot, and you taste better than candy." Stephen rested his chin on his hands and admired Paul's muscles.

After pulling on his jacket and long winter coat, Paul reached over and gave Stephen a bear hug. "Show me your essay when I get home."

He got a scowl in return. "That means I actually have to write it."

"No essay, no candy." Paul laughed as he left the room.

 

It was after 3 when Paul returned, the water in the bathroom quietly hissing on the other side of the wall. Stephen shuffled around to give Paul the body warm part and waited. Paul softly came in and slipped inside the bed, back turned and silent.

"You okay?" Stephen whispered. 

"It sucked. It was like being in the middle of a pack of hyenas," came the sullen answer.

Stephen snuggled closer, one arm over Paul's waist. "You make good tips?"

Paul groaned, "We have to pay for breakages."

"You're not _that_ clumsy."

"I am when some 40 year old has her hand grabbing at my sack," Paul huffed.

Stephen sat up, "The fuck?"

"It was full of hens' nights. They couldn't grope the strippers so they went for the low hanging fruit. My ass is gonna be covered with bruises." Paul sighed. "I'm beat."

Stephen cuddled him again, gently stroking Paul's body. "I'll kiss every bruise you get, okay?"

Silence, then Paul finally giggled, rolling over. "You're always welcome to kiss my ass, Stephen."

Stephen smiled and replied, "Let's start at the top and work our way down."

With that, he kissed Paul deep on the lips, then again, before making a slow journey downwards. He didn't even mind that Paul was fast asleep before he'd got to his chest.  
Stephen grinned. "Paul, you still awake?"

In his sleep, Paul murmured, "Fuck off."

Stephen silently chuckled and kept kissing away.


End file.
